Five Days in Paris
by civilwarrose
Summary: Lumiere and Babette set off to the romantic city of Paris to finally elope. Lumiere is glad to see his old home again, but he is faced with hard realities.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disney owns Beauty and the Beast and its characters. _**

**_"Five Days in Paris" is a spinoff of the story "The New Order in the Castle." I have given some initial background so it can be understood without reading the longer story first. _**

**_Lumiere and Babette went off to elope in Paris, but only their departure and return was described in "New Order." Here is what they experienced on their trip._**

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><p>Chapter 1- Journey<p>

The immense castle with its spires and turrets slowly disappeared from view, as Babette gazed out of the window of the large, elegant stagecoach. She felt a rush of excitement and adventure; she still wanted to pinch herself to know that this was actually real. She and her beloved Francois Lumiere were actually heading off to Paris to elope! It had been over ten whole years since she and Francois had been outside the castle and its grounds.

She turned from the window and smiled at her fiancé, a tall, thin man of thirty six years old, about six years her senior. He grinned at her, squeezing her hand.

"It will only be a day and a half of travel, _cherie. _Don't worry, if you tire of the ride and need to take a break, I'll let the driver know."

"I'm fine for now, but thank you." She took off her bonnet. Although it was lightly raining outside, it was quite warm inside of the coach. They were now rolling slightly downhill through a valley, soon to enter a main carriage road that would take them westward.

Lumiere removed his hat and heavy coat as well. His hair had receded slightly from what she had remembered it looking like before he was transformed into a candelabrum, and his laughing blue-grey eyes had developed just a few little smile lines.

Babette herself had barely aged at all, and what aging she had gone through made her more attractive in Francois' eyes, as she had been only twenty when she'd been turned into a feather duster. Over the last years, while he had been trying to cheer the other objects up, she had made sure to stay industrious, cleaning and tidying and trying to steer clear of the irritable and brooding Master.

Before the crazy curse, she'd hardly thought of Francois as someone who would have paid attention to someone like her. He had been a fairly new addition to the staff, coming on board about a year after the epidemic of illness that had claimed the lives of Prince Adam's parents, Prince Alexandre and Princess Marie Eugenie, as well as a handful of servants, including the former butler and _maitre d'_, the beloved Nicholas Potts, and Babette's own hardworking and kind mother, Josette.

After those tragic losses, the remaining castle residents had been in despair. Their only master remaining was an angry and spoiled little boy, Prince Adam. So when Lumiere took on the post with his resume of experience lacking in practical castle-servant duties, but more as that of a performer and aspiring singer from Paris, willing to take on any job as a starving artist will, he brought a liveliness and gaiety to the glum inhabitants like a ray of sunshine.

She admired him from afar when they had been human back then. She was more like a little sister to him, but she had always felt giddy when he would talk to her or compliment her on her diligent work. She gathered that he had been a playboy back in Paris, and had several past girlfriends and admirers that he had talked of; their names unfamiliar to any of them. Apparently none of them had been serious, because they never bothered to show up at the palace. She often wondered if he missed any of them, or was secretly lonely.

Lumiere was probably the most popular member of the entire staff for another reason besides his showmanship and habit of bursting into merry song- he would take young Adam away from the castle on trips to the cities to see art museums and orchestra concerts, and to spoil him with new toys. This, of course, would relieve the rest of the inhabitants from the constant tantrums and whining of the little boy. The only servants who had ever attempted to control the child had been Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts, but they had lost the battle, as the boy was already nearly nine and his temperament had been established.

About two years later, on Christmas Eve, the boy happened to answer the door, and after he behaved rudely to an old beggar woman, a decade-long nightmare began.

Since they were all objects then, confined to the walls of the castle, they had no one to associate with but each other. Babette, even though she was just a duster, still had the mind of a young woman growing in maturity. Her cute feathery form and sweet personality soon caught the eye of the charismatic candle-man, and as the ten years progressed, a flirtatious friendship evolved into a romance. Of course, there wasn't much of a physical component to this, although they certainly tried. Moreover, they could both sense a passionate bonding of their minds and souls.

Babette had indeed enchanted Lumiere with the way she had appeared after the transformation. He vaguely recalled her as a thin and mousy little _mademoiselle_ before, with dark hair cut short and unadorned, wearing dowdy black maid's dresses. She came out as a woman- a tantalizing woman. She had grown up, a late-bloomer in feminine beauty. The physical manifestation of her more confident personality, like a flower blossoming from his attention, was a sight to behold. She passed by him that day, and even was brave enough to flirtatiously wink at him, making him playfully chase her around the castle. There was no way that the mousy young girl she'd been before could have managed that.

After a few weeks of secret _rendezvous_-ing around the spare upstairs rooms of the servants' wing, Babette realized that they had both made a mistake and had rushed into things. She started wondering if he wouldn't see her as possible wife material, and to her horror, she thought that she might end up being just like another of his old paramours.

Things came to a head the day after Adam and Belle's wedding, when she flat out told him that if he were not to be the marrying type, it was best that they end the relationship. For a very brief time, that was what happened.

Two weeks later, although it seemed much longer, Francois completely shocked her with a proposal. He had a change of heart. That proposal had happened only yesterday, and here they were, heading out on a romantic adventure.

"Dear, when we get there, the first stop will be my father's. I would like you to meet him. Then, we can go to the old church where my father's favorite priest friend will marry us. If we make good time, that may be as early as tomorrow morning," Lumiere said to her.

"That sounds lovely," she replied, smiling and snuggling into his shoulder. She looked up at him and her lips found his, and since they were alone, they kissed passionately for quite some time, until their lips finally were numb.

"Mind if I smoke now?" he asked, reaching for a pipe in his coat pocket.

"Yes, I do mind. I feel as Cogsworth does, I'd rather you not," she gently scolded.

"Very well, then."

The rest of the day and evening went on very dull and dreary, with nothing to look at but the inside of the carriage and the grey skies outside. They stopped in a town for dinner, and continued on. A new driver- a cross-looking man- came on duty, and two more passengers embarked, two finely-dressed men. At this point on their journey, they were halfway between the area of Prince Adam's castle, nestled in the scenic, hilly region of northeastern France, and their destination of Paris.

Babette had never been this far west before. She hailed from Nancy originally, although she hadn't even been there since she had been fifteen years old, when her father died and she and her mother took on the positions of cleaning maids for the noble family. It was one of the most coveted positions for a widow with a young daughter. Even though their days were filled with menial tasks, she and her mother were treated well, with fine food, clean uniforms, and comfortable bedrooms, surrounded by opulent furnishings. She couldn't imagine what it may have been like if they had not been adopted as servants by Prince Alexandre and his wife.

As the coach rolled through the French countryside, Francois and Babette made small talk with the two merchants sitting across from them, but didn't find much about them to relate to; they seemed haughty and way too serious. All four soon became tired, and they fell asleep on the seats as darkness fell upon the interior of the stagecoach. They woke up in the morning with aching necks and a need to get out of that now-uncomfortable coach as soon as possible, but there was still more travel ahead. The groggy couple was about to ask the driver politely to stop, but one of the travelers, a large middle aged man, quickly yelled out the window, demanding that they stop for breakfast and a chance to stretch their legs, and the other three passengers were grateful.

Four monotonous hours later, they arrived at the outskirts of what was definitely a great city. Huge spires of Gothic cathedrals and other majestic buildings appeared in the landscape.

"This is it, _cherie_! We are here!" Lumiere exclaimed to his sweetheart.

The carriage entered into a main street and became surrounded by buildings on every side, homes upon homes, and all kinds of shops, taverns, and markets. Babette looked out the window, mesmerized at the flurry of activity- dozens of carriages of every type, and people of all walks of life going out and about. A little further, and they approached the immense Cathedral of Notre Dame, as well as the other fine works of archetecture.

"_Magnifique_! Better than the drawings in the books!" Babette exclaimed.

"Beautiful, is it not?" her fiancé said, grinning. He was so eager to share his hometown with her, as he had not been here himself for more than ten years. Soon they were passing through the most glamorous and elegant section of the great city. Here were the glorious Gothic cathedrals, the political buildings, the banks and fine hotels. The coach stopped for a moment, and the two gentlemen who had not said much to the couple stepped off, looking irritable from the lengthy travel. The coach picked up speed again.

"This is where some of the most powerful people in the world today live and work, Babette," he told her. Indeed, the people going about the streets were indeed much more elegant looking than the people they had passed before. The cobblestone streets were much cleaner, the carriages and horses the finest. Babette looked admiringly at the buildings; some of the architecture reminded her of Prince Adam's castle, with their spires and carvings of cherubs, but here there were dozens to look at.

The carriage traveled still further, past several more large and impressive buildings, and finally into a plainer, quieter area lined with smaller churches, cafés, and more shops.

"Now we are nearing my father's home. It is on the _Rue de Orme_."

Babette spotted a group of three young children out on the sidewalk, and she smiled and waved at them. In an instant, the children, all of them dressed in dirty, ripped clothing, rushed toward the stagecoach and reached out their hands toward her window.

"_Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle! Nourriture,* si vous plait?"_

A gruff voice was heard at the front of the coach.

_"Stay away, you filthy little dogs!" _

It was the coachman, and they could feel the carriage picking up speed in order to keep the children from climbing up on the coach. One of them had tried to climb, and as the coach lurched faster, the small boy was thrown into the cobblestone street. Babette gasped. The poor little thing was not more than six, perhaps five.

"I might have to have a word with this driver, pardon me, _cherie_," said Lumiere, angrily. He stood and leaned his head out of the window. "I want you to stop this carriage instantly!"

"We have not reached the address I was given, monsieur," the driver replied curtly.

"It doesn't matter. We are very close, and will walk! Stop the carriage!"

They felt the coach slowing down and finally to a stop. Lumiere and Babette jumped out, and Lumiere, still fuming, approached the driver in the front.

"I will report your cruelty to those children."

"To whom?" The coachman stared down at Lumiere in a challenging manner.

"His Majesty Prince Adam."

"I don't believe I have ever been chastised for trying to prevent little street rats from swarming our stagecoaches. It is the protocol to _never_ stop to aid beggars and tramps! I do as my employers have always asked."

"Well, we are done with you, and I am certain Prince Adam would beg to differ on the protocol, Monsieur. Good day!" Lumiere turned from him and stepped back in to grab his and Babette's traveling bags.

Meanwhile, Babette had run as fast as she could, about the length of a city-block away, to where the child had been knocked into the middle of the street. Lumiere, carrying three large bags, lumbered toward where she had gone.

He arrived at an area just in front of some row houses, and was touched to see his fiancee helping a dirty child to his feet. She walked him back to the other two, an even tinier boy and a girl, the oldest.

When he reached them, the girl ran to him and asked, as before, "_Monsieur! Nourriture*, si vous plait_?"

He was jolted into the reality that he was no longer protected by the castle walls anymore. The magical spell over the years had cut all of Prince Adam's servants from the outside world and all of its problems and tragedies. Looking at the three children with their ripped and dirty clothes; the sobbing boy with a bloodied, scraped knee, and all three with a hopeless and lost look on their faces, he realized just how much about Paris he'd forgotten.

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><p><em>A.N. Nourriture- food, nourishment<em>.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- Family Reunion

They both looked into the careworn faces of the three children; they were obviously siblings, each with large dark eyes, messy dark blonde hair, and pale skin. Babette fumbled in her bags to find a cloth of some sort to stop the boy's skinned knee from bleeding, but found nothing. They needed aid, and all the other people in the street seemed to pass by without a second glance at them.

"What are your names?" Lumiere asked the girl.

"I am Minette, and these are my brothers Hugo and Damien," she replied, in a confident, no-nonsense voice. It was apparent that, at no more than nine or ten, she was responsible for her brothers and did not want to be seen as helpless.

"The lady and I would be happy to walk you into the bakery and buy you some bread," said Lumiere. "And we must get your brother's knee bandaged."

"_Merci_," breathed Hugo, the older of the boys with the bloody knee. Damien, the toddler of three or four, went up to Babette and put his hand on the skirt of her soft, purple velvet dress.

"Are you a princess?" he asked.

"_Non,_ but we know one!" Babette replied, smiling. The child was awestruck, and she took his hand as they walked a short way to the bakery. It was the same one Lumiere frequented as a boy himself. The old neighborhood hadn't changed much.

They entered the shop, and the children were overwhelmed with the delicious smells. Croissants, baguettes, and long loaves of bread were displayed under glass domes on the table, and a small older man stood behind it. His nose wrinkled at the sight of the dirty children, but he then shifted his gaze at the couple. "How may I help you today, monsieur and madame?"

"You may choose as many as you like, don't be shy," Lumiere told the youngsters. With tentative fingers, they pointed to the croissants first, and so he ordered ten of them, as well as two large loaves of bread. He also asked the baker if he had a cloth and some water, as the boy's leg was injured. The baker, although his expression still registered disdain, went to the back and came again with a damp cloth and some bandages.

Taking the bag of bread, they walked out and found a small bench in the street corner. Babette tended to his wounds, and they let the three children eat to their hearts content.

"Where do you live?"

"Under the bridge, over there." Minette pointed in the direction of the river, which was still some distance away. "We sleep in a little spot there, and Madame Celeste watches over us sometimes. She lives under the bridge too. Our Maman and Pere are dead now."

Lumiere's and Babette's hearts sank at the thought. They wish they knew what else they could do. Lumiere knew his father was expecting his visit that day, and he wished he could bring the children along and ask around for someone to provide them shelter. Perhaps, when they went to the church, they could ask if the sisters at the Abbey could aid them. But for now, all he could do was fish into his pockets and spare a handful of franc-pieces.

"Minette, I promise I will keep checking on you soon. I do not live here in the city; we are only visiting for a few days. But I will talk to people and see if there is a place you and your brothers could go. Please stay in this area tomorrow, so we can find you again."

"_Oui, merci_," said Minette, smiling. "_Merci_," echoed the little boys. They had eaten three croissants each, and were now drinking water from a tin cup Babette had found in her bag and filled at the pump on the street corner.

"_Adieu_," they bid the children as, with heavy hearts, they begin to walk with their baggage along the Rue de Orme. "Here it is, _cherie_- my _Pere_'s home!"

Lumiere pointed to a brick row house across the street, which resembled all of the other brick row houses on the block. "Number 237, Rue de Orme. _Mon dieu_, whatever happened to the big oak tree we used to have? I used to love that tree," he mused as they strolled up the stone walkway and up to the door. Babette felt a dreadful nervous sensation at the pit of her stomach. She hoped her future father in law would approve of her. She also hoped that he would be the elder version of Francois- a kind and gracious man with a sense of humor. He had to be.

Her mind was put at ease. A thin man in his fifties who looked very much like Francois, right up to the receded hair-although Claude-Denis Lumiere's was graying- and the same smiling blue grey eyes opened the door and his countenance lit up with a huge smile.

"Francois! You have made it after all! It has been so long!" The men embraced. The elder Monsieur Lumiere's gaze went to Babette, and she smiled shyly. "And this is your lady friend? She is very beautiful! Come on in!"

He led them to a small, modest sitting room, which had the air of seeing better days. The furniture was threadbare, and there was little to look at other than a collection of flags on one wall. A frame above the fireplace mantel displayed about a half-dozen military medals, each with a different colored ribbon. A shelf filled with books indicated that Monsieur Lumiere was an educated man despite his modest status.

After they had seated, Claude-Denis turned questioning eyes to his son.

"So- tell me. What was the reason? Ten years? Why, Francois?" He raised his palms up in a pleading gesture. Babette noticed both father and son had the same tendency to dramatically talk with their hands.

Lumiere had this one well-thought out and prepared. "His Majesty Prince Adam was ill for a long time. He is- let us say- a prince of high demands, and he held me in _particular_ favor as one of his closest servants and members of his court. No one else would do except me." He smiled his most charming smile, making certain to aim it at Babette as well as his father. "I was nursemaid, butler, maitre d', confidante, entertainer, and even friend. He would _not_ let me out of his sight." After dramatic gesturing with this statement, he folded his hands in his lap, and smiled smugly at his father, like a child setting a perfect arithmetic paper in front of his schoolmaster.

Claude-Denis shrugged and thought for a minute, then nodded. "It is understandable. Sometimes duty must come before family, in servitude of royals just as much as servitude of one's country. After all, I was not able to be there for you for so much of your youth, and I regret it, but I do not regret my service." His eyes went to his display of medals.

"See that one?" He looked proudly at Babette and pointed to the largest medal. "Francois was with me when I was presented with it. For valor during the Invasion of Hanover in '57. I was one of the oldest there, commanding a small regiment. I wanted Francois to join up after that, he was at the perfect age- and me too old- but… he was too busy wiping champaigne glasses for his royals. Such is life." He shrugged again. "My commander was the Prince of Soubise. He was of the House of Rohan. Is not your Prince Adam of the House of Rohan?"

"I believe he is, on his father's side," replied Lumiere. He didn't really know much of the royal family Adam was born into, since he had not personally met his parents. Whichever members of the so-called House of Rohan were still around and governing principalities, they certainly didn't care to check up on young Adam or inquire of him, all those years ago.

"So tell me about yourself, Mademoiselle Babette. You are a lovely young lady. Will you take good care of my son? Stay true to him always?" He was asking this in a playful manner, but his eyes flashed a hint of concern.

"I shall, Monsieur. I love your son very dearly." She smiled up at Francois and he squeezed her hand.

"Well, what are we _waiting_ for?" Claude-Denis shouted out, and shot up from his chair. "Let us take you two down to my church and get you married!"

Less than twenty minutes later, Lumiere and Babette were standing at a candlelit altar in the old, empty neighborhood Catholic church, with the elder Lumiere by his side. They stood in front of old Pere Francois, the very priest whose name Lumiere shared and who had baptized him, more than thirty five years before. The ceremony was of the bare minimum, and when Pere Francois asked if Lumiere had a ring for his bride, he blushed until his father, with a flourish, took a tiny ring out of his own vest pocket.

"Mother's? Is it proper-" Lumiere whispered. He wondered if it bore a bad omen. His mother had left his father long ago in favor of a wealthier man. The ring had been kept in his father's home for decades then; he wondered why he even kept it.

"I have no belief in bad luck. Just love. Look- it is a beautiful ring." Claude-Denis replied. Babette smiled. It would work just as well as any ring, and it had a tiny oval diamond set upon it. Lumiere took it and placed it on her finger; it fit perfectly.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

The gloomy, empty old church with its musty smell was forgotten as they shared a passionate kiss. The kiss was broken as the elder Lumiere caught Babette in a warm hug.

"You are my daughter now! I have never had a daughter, and could not dream of having one as lovely as you."

As they bid adieu to the priest, every legality and paper signed, as well as an inquiry about the Abbey and the location of orphanages by the couple, Claude-Denis expressed the wish that his son and daughter-in-law could move to Paris and find work there, to live near him. He was a lonely man, Francois thought sadly. He felt torn, but he could not bear the thought of leaving Prince Adam's palace, his second family. He could never explain to his father the past circumstances, and all that they had been through. All he could do was promise him that he would- from now on- visit more often, and stay with him at least twice a year.

Soon afterward, after saying their goodbyes to Lumiere's father for the day, they checked in to a fine inn, the _White Duck_, on a pleasant, apple-blossom lined street. As they were entering, Lumiere happened to glance across the street to see the same grand stagecoach they had arrived in Paris in. He recognized the same driver, the rude man who had sped up to thwart the three children and cause little Hugo to fall on his knee.

Inside the coach, a middle-aged man in a snow-white, curled and powdered wig was staring Lumiere right in the eye. Lumiere looked around to see if the man could be staring at someone else, but apparently, the scowl on the important-looking gentleman's face was directed solely at him.

He decided to ignore him. Instead, he put his arm around his bride and, after checking in, they sat down to dine in the front parlor. It was a gift from Adam to provide such a fine place to stay for a few days. He had told Adam that they could have very well stayed in his father's spare rooms, but Adam insisted. It was their honeymoon now, after all.

As they were sitting down to a romantic dinner of roast duck, onion soup, and red wine, neither of them talking much, but holding hands tightly and gazing into each other's eyes, the door to the street outside opened. An entourage of two men in scarlet coats entered, and gestured to the proprietor of the inn.

The innkeeper quickly rushed forward in greeting, and one of the two men announced in a formal tone, "Presenting His Majesty- Prince Maximillien."

The man who had been staring at Lumiere entered. He was dressed in a black velvet jacket and breeches, his brass buttons shiny, his elaborate wig snow-white, his countenance that of a man of utmost importance. Something in his eyes and features was vaguely familiar to Lumiere.

The innkeeper bowed gracefully to the prince. "What shall I assist you with, Your Grace?"

"Just a glass of wine will do for now," the prince told the innkeeper curtly. He strode over to a table- the one directly across from where Lumiere and Babette were dining- and sat down. After he was seated, he gestured for his two scarlet-coated servants to stand near him. After receiving a glass of wine, he silently drank while still shooting side glances at Lumiere.

Lumiere felt uncomfortable awkwardness sweep through him. He tried to keep pleasant chatter with Babette, but even she was feeling unnerved under the intermittent glares of the aristocrat sitting at the next table.

"So...Francois, I hope your prediction you gave me during Adam and Belle's wedding will not come to pass," Babette said, with a teasing look in her eyes.

"And what prediction was that, _cherie_?"

Babette grinned up at him. "That today will also be the day of your funeral as well as your wedding."

He guffawed. "I take that back _completely_, my love!"

Finally, after a quiet dinner in which they had hoped to be alone but felt constantly watched, the food and wine somehow having lost all flavor, the newlywed couple stood up, both of them in the hopes of retiring to their room. A warm bed awaited, and they both were feeling a little flushed at the thought. Their wedding night was upon them.

They had no other route towards the stairwell than to walk right past the prince and his two men.

"_Ahem!"_

Lumiere reluctantly looked to his left at the sound of harsh throat-clearing. It was the Prince. He stood up and approached Lumiere, the two tall, younger servants stepping forward as well, hands behind their backs with the air of bodyguards. The eyes of Prince Maximillien bored into Lumiere's with a brilliant blue gaze. He did not look to be in a friendly mood. Lumiere forced a smile.

The Prince spared any pleasantries, and went right into the inquiry.

"Am I not in the presence of Monsieur Francois Lumiere, of the household of His Majesty Prince Adam Vincente Christophe?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3- Inquiry and a Message

Lumiere was startled to think that this aristocratic stranger knew his name. Several thoughts raced through his mind; one of them being he should have known that this had something to do with Adam; after all, Adam had had a life and royal connections before Lumiere had even begun serving on his staff. The second one was, simply _how_ had Prince Maximillien been told of his name? He couldn't ask him outright of course, which would be disrespectful.

He lowered quietly into a bow, and was aware of Babette doing the same behind him.

As he rose and looked into the Prince's stern eyes, the answer to his second musing was simple. The carriage driver, of course. The carriage driver must have thought it quite compelling that a servant of the 'lost' prince from the northeastern principality of France was in town, traveling in luxury under his masters' coffer.

He finally answered the Prince, in an honest and pleasant tone. "Yes, Your Grace."

"I am the uncle of young Prince Adam. His father, the late Prince Alexandre, was a…half-brother…of mine. I have lost connections with that part of my family, and now that I have found someone who is in direct contact with him, perhaps _you_ can assist me with what I want to know."

Lumiere relaxed. In his memories of the years with the child Adam before the curse, he recalled him mentioning an "Uncle Max" from time to time. Adam had even tried to contact his uncles more recently to invite them to his wedding to Belle, but to no success. The eyes and facial structure of the man did, indeed, bear some resemblance to Adam. Perhaps the uncle was not meaning to be threatening after all, and just wished for a simple reunion. In that case, Lumiere was happy to help. He smiled pleasantly at him.

"I will answer any questions you have, Your Grace."

"Have a seat," Prince Maximillien ordered gently, gesturing to the chairs around the table he had been sitting at before. Lumiere and Babette quietly sat down with him. The two scarlet-coated servants remained standing ramrod-straight, hands folded in front of them.

The prince's eyes searched Lumiere's in inquiry. "Does my nephew often keep the habit of sending his servants on elaborate trips on his expense, using the finest carriages and staying in the finest inns?"

"No, Your Grace, it is not in his usual habit. He did this for us as a gift, you see. The lady and I have just gotten married." He gestured to Babette, who nodded pleasantly.

"Very well, then. You have my congratulations," he said. Lumiere felt even more at ease, the man was starting to seem pleasant enough. "Now, my main question. What has my nephew been doing for the past several years? He was a child at the time of my half-brother's death. I do not believe he had a guardian. _Who_ was his guardian?" The Prince tapped his palm on the table in emphasis. "Who has been mentoring the boy all these years?"

Lumiere was about to open his mouth to utter the name, "George Cogsworth." But he stopped before it came out. An English name- _non,_ that would certainly not be a good thing to reveal to this nobleman of pure French aristocracy. He knew from his father's war experience, and mention of a commander who may have been a relation to this man- that they very likely despised the English. He had neglected to reveal to his father that his best friend in the whole world was, as Claude-Denis would say, a "bloody Englishman." So he gave the Prince the more acceptable half-truth.

"I have."

Prince Maximillien's face went into a scowl. "This is not the ideal upbringing I would have had in mind- _you_- a mere butler? His guardian?" He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and thought for a moment. He shook his head. "Well, I do believe this is the fault of our own family, including myself. We left the boy all alone with no mentor. I should have known better. But the scandal of Alexandre's birth did not allow us to want to…" He had defensively gone off into a tangent of detail, but stopped himself. The Prince realized he didn't want to share any sordid family history with a mere servant.

He redirected his conversation. "So, it is as it is. My nephew was raised by servants, I cannot change it now. My next question is this. The principality in the eastern region where you live has not been properly governed, or properly taxed for a long time. Can you tell me about the region where my nephew has resided? How do the…peasants in the area live?"

Lumiere thought about the few times he had gone outside the castle grounds and saw the common people. He thought of the quaint, happy little town of Molyneux, with its thriving little businesses, clean homes and shops, and healthy, well-fed children. He sensed that Adam's "Uncle Max" may want to demand some monetary sacrifice on the citizens' part. Lumiere was uncomfortable with this question.

"I barely ever leave the palace grounds. I have been in a few villages, they are very small and poor villages. Nothing of significance… I cannot say, Your Grace."

The prince nodded calmly. "Now this leads me to something I would like to ask as a favor to you. Now that my nephew has grown to manhood, I need to send him the message that he has an offer to visit me at my relative's estate here in Paris- the Hotel de Soubise. I want to meet him and realize his potential as an accepted member of our royal family. And, if he meets our standards, we wish him to take on a larger leadership post, closer to me and in direct service to His Majesty King Louis. I would also wish for him to meet King Louis, with all the privileges that intimacy with His Majesty would entail."

He finally smiled. "Privileges that a young man of his age would greatly appreciate, I am certain. Power, staggering wealth… beautiful mistresses." He raised an eyebrow at Lumiere. "I do believe the closest servants may get a taste of those privileges as well. I send _my_ servants, for example, to the finest houses of ill repute." He grinned, and looked upwards at one of the two servants standing still. The youth's mouth turned up in a little knowing smile.

Lumiere immediately looked at Babette, who looked troubled. She knew his past weaknesses. He smiled at her lovingly, and she smiled back. "I am certain that is all fine and well for your servants," he told the prince in a gently friendly tone.

"I ask no further questions, Monsieur Lumiere, you have been a great deal of help," the Prince finally said. "I ask that you give him my message when you return home. Here is the correspondence to the estate where I will be," he said, taking a scroll from his vest pocket with a black ribbon and royal seal upon it. He handed it to Lumiere.

"If I hear from my nephew, I would be honored. If I never hear from him or you again, and he decides to stay alone, in that sparse principality in the east, he will sorely miss out on what he could experience. He will someday be unsupported, as the funds to that particular estate will not be replenished without taxes to his region, and I am afraid he may eventually turn penniless with only a grandfather's respectable name and title to his benefit. I have heard through sources that he, like his grandfather before him, has taken up with a commoner." He looked at Lumiere as if this was of some unfortunate significance.

Lumiere, picturing his mistress Belle in mind, did not feel this to be of unfortunate significance at all. He wished to protest, but decided it was best to stay silent.

So far the interrogation, as it were, was easier than he'd thought. At least the question of Prince Adam's absence and long...illness...had not been addressed yet. He would still explain it away as an illness; after all, being turned into a ten-foot-tall monster with fur and horns _could_ qualify as a physical malady, he reasoned. He prayed it would still not be brought up.

"I bid you _adieu_ for now. I may be seeking you again for further information on my nephew. I expect that you give him my correspondence, and my offer." With a curt nod, he turned and waved the two young men to follow him, and they finally exited the dining hall of the inn.

Silence ensued for a minute as the gobsmacked couple looked at each other. Lumiere finally shrugged. "I don't know what to say," he said softly to Babette. "I can give Prince Adam the message, but I …don't like what any of this could mean for us."

"Let us not worry about it for now, _cherie_." She took his hand. "Let us go upstairs, and retire."

The suite was not a large room, but it was opulently decorated and elegant. Blue and white floral upholstery covered several little chairs, which matched the blue and white counterpane on the dark walnut four-poster bed. Lace curtains were opened, and the light outside was fading to a soft dimness. Francois locked the door.

"Let's forget about His Royal Ego for now, _cherie_." His eyes lowered to the décolletage on her purple gown, and his fingers went to the little hook and eye closures at her back as his arms embraced her, and his bride stretched on her tiptoes for a deep kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4- The Orphans, and a Prophecy

Suffice it to say, their night was long and passionate. Francois and Babette had not been... _extremely_ physically close for a while, and now as husband and wife, their inhibitions were joyfully set free. Despite the innkeeper running out of firewood, the couple in room three did a perfectly good job keeping themselves, and each other, plenty warm. In the wee hours of the morning, the couple finally fell asleep, wrapped in an embrace.

Francois fell into a dream, the kind of dream in which, after one gets sleep deprived, the brain's connections, upon finally acquiring said sleep, go haywire in a dramatic show of jumbled and changing, yet lifelike, events.

_He was in the castle's kitchen, strolling past the ovens and cutting counters, the room filled with smells of foods and sounds of clattering pots and pans, the banter of maids, and the barking of orders coming from the old head chef, Thierry. He needed to pick up the platters of dinner to serve to Adam and Belle. It was a dish of beef and potatoes, and perhaps crème brulee for dessert. Thierry, having spent ten years as an oven, was in a cross mood. He ranted and raved at everyone in the kitchen, and some of the scullery maids were running from him in fear. (Now in real life, Lumiere thought, in the midst of the dream, no one feared Thierry at all; in fact, they tended to ignore his moodiness and tease him, particularly Mrs. Potts.) Lumiere rushed toward Thierry to tell him to stop shouting and just give him the platter! Thierry raised an arm, wielding his large meat cleaver…_

_The cleaver grew and grew, larger and larger. The setting changed. The cooking cleaver had transformed into an enormous blade, the edge set at an angle. It was set in a wooden frame of some sort. The setting was outdoors, a cloudy sky…in the mist of a jeering crowd. Hundreds, thousands of people! Chanting, shouting…Prince Maximillien came into view. He appeared very old, very pale…his face was white with terror. Men were pushing him forward. They forced his head on the wooden platform…_

_The blade dropped- a sickening thud. Blood…blood everywhere, rivers of blood…_

'_Twenty years,' boomed a voice in Lumiere's head. _

'_Vingt annees!…twenty years from now!' The voice roared so loudly in his head that he covered his ears, running away, away from the pools of blood and the chanting crowds- he saw the Cathedral of Notre Dame in the distance- he was here, in Paris, but this was not the Paris he knew…Children were running toward him, ragged, starving children. _

'_Nouritture, si vous plait!' they begged of him. 'Feed us, shelter us, but above all else, you must save Prince Adam! You must not let him meet the King- never! He must stay home, in his castle in the hills forever!' The children cried and pleaded with him, pulling at his coat, tears running down their faces._

He woke up panting and sweating with fear. Late morning sun slanted through the curtains. The room was bright, blue, and cheery. He remembered that they were in the inn. Just a dream, it was. He looked over at his bride, she was peacefully sleeping, her dark hair spread on her pillow. She stirred.

"What is wrong?" she said, hoarse from sleep.

"Just a dream, darling. I had a bad dream. It is nothing."

"Shall we rise? It is…" she squinted at the clock- "almost eleven in the morning."

"Well, we are wasting daylight, aren't we, _cherie_?" He was starting to feel his happy self again, forgetting the dream and remembering the blissful hours previous to that. He squinted as well, in the direction of the wall. The clock was near a canvas calendar, which noted the current month and year in a curly black-inked font. _April 1770. _

Twenty years? Was the dream telling him something? What was going to happen around the year 1790 or whereabouts? It was such a long time from now, nothing to be concerned with. But he remembered the haunting image of Prince Maximillien. The man looked so old in the dream- was this a glimpse into his future? Was he going to suffer such a death? He wasn't certain that dreams told the future anyway. They were usually just crazy ways the imagination ran wild during sleep, weren't they?

The dream, though distressing, faded from his mind as they leisurely went through the early part of the day. They took a late breakfast downstairs, walked along the neighborhood and then, on a whim, decided to stroll in the same area around Francois' father's house in hopes of finding the three children they had encountered just the day before.

They found them quite soon, sitting on the same bench in front of the same bakery.

"_Monsieur! Madame_!" they called out to them. The coins that he had given them were being put to good use; Minette, Hugo, and Damien were happily feasting on some bread and apples. _How they could be happy_, they both thought. There was a cool spring chill in the air, to imagine that these three slept under the bridge by the river was heartbreaking.

"How was your night, children?" asked Babette.

"It was… all right," replied Minette.

"Were you not cold? Were you wearing anything other than this?" Lumiere asked incredulously. Minette's dress had long sleeves, and she had on a crocheted black shawl, but there were holes and rips in the grayish-green fabric of her dress. The boys' little stained white blouses and too-small brown tunic coats fared no better.

"We were a little cold, but Madame Celeste stays near us, and she gives us her blanket," replied Minette.

Lumiere had had quite enough. "Children, you are coming for a walk with us," he announced.

They headed to his father's neighborhood, in the pleasant but modest street lined with brick rowhouses. The church where they were just married the day before stood in the corner, and they entered the old stained glass paneled doors. It was not a Sunday, so it was just as empty and quiet as before. He hoped that Pere Francois was in his office, a corner room behind the altar.

There was no sign of the priest, but a small, middle aged lady was sitting in his office, furiously writing with a feathered quill on a piece of parchment. She was dressed in the unmistakable garb of a Sister of the Abbey. Her hair was completely hidden under a stiff black and white starched wimple. She looked up at the visitors, a bit startled at the distraction from her work.

"Bonjour," she greeted the well-dressed couple and three impoverished children. "What may I help you with?" Her eyes took in the clothing of the children and she understood perfectly. "You wish to enroll these youngsters in the orphanage," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Does an orphanage exist in the area?" asked Lumiere. "I beg your pardon, but we are from out of town. We made acquaintance of these orphans only yesterday. I just wanted to see what we could possibly do for them. They are homeless. They sleep beneath the bridge."

He looked at Babette, then at young Minette awkwardly. She looked embarrassed, but hopeful. The little boys appeared exhausted, and Damien was toying with a miniature statue figurine of St. Peter on her desk. The Sister, rather than being cross at his handling of the iconic object, smiled at him instead.

She looked up at the couple and nodded. "You have come to the right place. Yes, there is an orphanage, located several squares away in the middle of the city. It is crowded, but we are doing our best to fund a second facility to be used in the old LeRoux mansion by the river. In fact, that was what I was just doing, writing letters in appeal to merchants and shop owners for donations!"

She stood up and shook their hands. "My name is Sister Josephine. I am the secretary to Pere Francois, and I belong to the Abbey of St. Augustine. Our abbey runs the orphanage downtown. The fact that we have all met today is no mere coincidence, our Father works in mysterious ways."

She addressed the three children. "Would you like to try some of my chocolates?"

Minette shrugged. The boys' mouths lifted in tiny smiles, eyes downcast. Sister Josephine opened her drawer and took out a box. "My secret stash. We _must_ allow ourselves some small sins every once in a while," she said, chuckling. She handed two chocolates to each of the three children.

"You were referring earlier to the wish for donations," Lumiere pointed out to Sister Josephine. "I am willing to put in a small amount for you, today, and I have connections to someone from outside the area that, I am certain, would be also glad to help."

"Bless you, monsieur!" exclaimed Sister Josephine. "Children, I will be able to take you into the orphanage for shelter today. I did the same thing last week; a grocer brought in a foundling of only two, poor dear! I waste no time. You may sit in the pews whilst I arrange for a carriage, dears. You may play with the piano if you wish."

"Thank you for finding shelter for them, we were worried," said Babette.

"May I ask, where you are visiting from?" asked Sister Josephine.

"From the northeast region, quite far away. We are both personal servants for a young couple of good social standing. They are the ones who we believe can help further." Lumiere answered. He asked for the address of the orphanage, and wrote it down on a piece of paper for future reference.

"That is wonderful! The Lord bless you both. I bid you _adieu_, and wish you both safe travel back home," Sister Josephine told them.

They bid goodbye to the three orphans, hugging all of them and letting them know they will keep them in their thoughts. Minette, Hugo and Damien were led out into the chapel, and as the couple departed the church, the pounding of piano keys was heard echoing through the large room of the sanctuary.

Walking arm in arm back towards the inn, they were unfortunate enough to spot Prince Maximillien, seated within the window of a different carriage then he had been in the previous day, no longer the rented stagecoach Lumiere and Babette had traveled in, but what was probably his own personal carriage. It was a quite grand, fancy stagecoach, painted bright red with golden trim, conspicuous in a neighborhood filled with small black cabs and simpler, one-horse buggies. Luckily, it was not parked near the inn; they didn't care to be questioned by the Prince about Adam any more today. Instead, it was starting to move and it began racing noisily down the street, wheels squeaking and reins slapping. Apparently, the Prince must have had some pressing royal matter that he had to get to.

Lumiere and Babette wondered if it had to do with _them_ again, so they quickly ducked into the space between two buildings. The carriage passed.

"What are _you_ doing here?" growled a voice.

They turned to the source. A man was sitting on the ground, in the small sheltered space between two brick buildings. He was dressed in tatters, was quite dirty, and he was probably young, although it was really hard to tell how old he was. He held a bottle of brandy, which he took a swig of.

Lumiere just decided to be honest. He smiled. "Well, we were…trying to hide from someone."

"Oh really? Who?" The derelict chuckled. He looked amused at the nicely dressed young couple ducking into his private cubbyhole. Judging from the blanket he was sitting on and a sack of belongings, he was a homeless man.

Honesty ruled once more. "It was that carriage that just went by. You know how it is when you just want to be left alone? Well, _we_ want to be left alone today and someone has been after us," said Lumiere good-humoredly.

"Fugitives, are you, eh? Thieves? Swindlers?" The man opened his sparsely-toothed mouth and let out a loud guffaw of laughter. "Ha! And it was one of the royal carriages you are trying to escape? So you must be in serious trouble then! And _you,_ mademoiselle- a fancy lady of the night, I suppose!" He pointed his bottle at Babette, who looked cross and shook her head violently. "Sorry, but I can't help you there!"

"_What_? No, no-no-no!" exclaimed Lumiere incredulously, waving his hands. "We aren't criminals or fugitives or... It's hard to explain, _monsieur_. It was just an annoying aristocrat who we want to get away from because… he's…annoying!"

"Francois!" scolded Babette. She didn't want to get them in real trouble. Anything insulting to royals must not be uttered in public, she thought.

"He's a killer, too," said the homeless man softly.

Lumiere and Babette looked down at him, shocked at the statement. He was no longer laughing. His red eyes were getting redder from tears as well as from inebriation.

"Was it that bright red stagecoach? The one that some high and mighty white-wigged Prince is always riding around in?"

"Yes- that was the one!"

"He killed my little brother."

"What did you say?" Lumiere asked, incredulously. Babette gasped softly.

"That prince and his carriage driver. They ran over my little brother Pierre in the street last year and he was killed, trampled on by the horses. He was only eight. He was trying to beg for food. I yelled at him to stop, but he was hungry and he ran out in the street begging in front of the passing carriage, like all the poor children do around here. The prince stuck his head out the window and yelled something to that driver, and he sped up instead of slowing down. He was alive at first, but a horse's hoof crushed him in the stomach, and I carried him back in the alleyway. He died the next day."

The young man closed his eyes tightly and took another long drink of brandy, emptying the bottle.

Lumiere and Babette looked at each other. They recalled just yesterday when they'd arrived in Paris, the three orphans, and the carriage driver speeding up. It was quite likely the same odious man. And he was in Prince Maximillien's employ, Lumiere thought. He had told him that he always followed his master's orders.

And his master's orders may have once included murder.

Unnerved, Lumiere dug into his pocket and pulled out a few franc-pieces, giving them to the young man. "Here, please buy yourself some food for the day, _monsieur_. What is your name?"

"Francois."

"That is my name as well! I'll always remember it easily, then." He smiled softly. "My sympathies are to you. And we are happy to come to your acquaintance. _Adieu_." He shook his hand.

They exited the small space and went back into the street, entering the inn. As they sat down to order dinner, the innkeeper stopped to chat with them at their table.

"His Majesty has been inquiring of you today."

"Thank you. We were out and about today, seeing the sights," answered Lumiere. "Perhaps he might find us later."

While dining over plates of creamed chicken wrapped in patisserie, Babette looked troubled. She gazed at her new husband with large, concerned hazel eyes.

"Darling, I really wish that Prince Adam doesn't decide to meet his uncle."

"Perhaps…we could just… _forget_ to give him the message?" he whispered back to her, conspiratorially.

Babette's lips turned upwards in a tiny smile. They wolfed down their dinner and rushed upstairs, eager to concentrate on each other and try to forget about prophetically doomed Princes, murderous carriage drivers, and a city filled with desperate homeless and orphans.

_Mon dieu_, how could he be expected to save the whole world, Lumiere thought. He was just a servant, a _maitre_ _d'_ to a prince and princess. His only real talents were a good singing voice and a charming way with people, particularly the ladies. So why did he feel this great weight on his conscience to try to help everyone? Perhaps it was the decade spent being an object- a candle holder nonetheless- that made him appreciate his humanity more than most people did. The object he'd been was almost like a symbol of what he felt was his destiny for the rest of his life- a candle to light the darkness, perhaps? It made sense. And his wife- she was to dust the cobwebs of sorrow off her fellow man, make people shiny and new. Oh, _sacre bleu_! He was overanalyzing things again. He thought of another saying he'd been taught as well...

_To those who have been given much, much is to be expected. _

Looking at his beautiful wife as she reclined on the blue-and-white counterpaned bed, removing her shoes and stockings, he certainly could agree upon the 'being given much' part of that axiom. She was more wonderful than he'd ever dreamed of.

Babette was thinking the same exact thing. She patted her hand on the space on the bed next to her, beaming up at her husband. She had never realized how intensely she could love someone, both in body and soul.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5- A Second Inquiry

The next morning, as soon as they went downstairs to the dining room of the inn, Lumiere and Babette found Prince Maximillien sitting at a table, the two guards standing by.

The aristocrat stood up and cleared his throat. "Ahem!" This day he was wearing a brilliant suit of scarlet with gold trim, as well as a haughty look in his eyes as he scrutinized the couple. "Ah, here we are! The fellow who can give me some more information on my nephew. I did not see you here yesterday. Come sit down."

Lumiere had no choice but to sit at the small circular table across from the prince again. Babette sat down by his side. He prepared himself for another questioning. He felt even more dread about it than he had yesterday; he certainly did _not_ want this overbearing prince to meet with Adam, relative or not. Especially if what the homeless man had said about him and his driver were true. He wished to get on with the few questions and answer them as soon as possible, so that he and Babette could take another walk and browse the shops, or take a tour around the city in a carriage. It was definitely putting a damper in their plans.

In addition, as he looked upon Prince Maximillien's face and the features that resembled his dear master Adam's, he was reminded of that horrible nightmare. He still didn't know what to make of that.

The Prince began his questioning. "So what I have heard from you about my nephew Adam I relayed to my brother, Prince Valentin, and he was quite disappointed in the fact he was raised by servants, recently married a common girl, and before that was never seen for years. Was he ill, or indisposed?"

"Both ill and indisposed, Your Majesty."

"What kind of ailment was overtaking him?"

_Oh, no, here it is_, he thought. Quickly his mind went into overdrive, retrieving all of his prior knowledge of diseases and what he was told had befallen the castle's residents in the past. In less than five seconds, he fabricated a plausible answer and babbled it forth.

"He had a touch of the consumption many years ago, Your Majesty. It claimed a small number of the servants... (that was true; Babette hung her head in remembrance of her mother at this) and it weakened him for a very long time… He also caught a sort of…pox that did terrible things to his physical appearance. He had been _such _a handsome lad, and, being ashamed of it, he became a hermit in the castle ever since. However, his skin has much improved lately since… doctors ordered him to spend some time in the sun, after all, springtime is spectacular up in the mountains-" he gave the Prince a winning smile and a sweeping gesture- "and he is now a handsome and presentable young man again. Don't you agree, _cherie_?" He turned to Babette, smiling but with a pleading look that was discreetly asking her if _she_ thought he was over-sharing, and if he _was_, she ought to give him a little nudge to disclose no more.

"Absolutely. He is a fine looking young Prince," Babette said brightly, nodding. She shot a tiny concerned look in her eye that he interpreted correctly as, _let's stop there, please. _

"Has he traveled much?" asked the Prince.

"_Non_, he never wishes to travel. Actually, he does not wish to even leave the castle much at all. He is still inclined to keep to himself, and he doesn't have that many friends other than us, Your Majesty." He was hoping that this portrayal would further discourage Prince Maximillien's interest in Adam.

The Prince made a sour face. Lumiere's heart leaped. It seemed to be working.

"So that does it. Disregard all that I have told you yesterday," Prince Maximillien announced in a cross tone. "This young man is not what I am looking for in a leader at all, I am afraid. He appears to have _no_ training and knowledge in royal protocol, _no_ pride in his heritage, _no_ good breeding, and seems to suffer mental infirmity as well as physical. I thank you for your time, and must take leave to Versailles now. Do not even tell your master that you have seen me. Although I hope someday he has the common sense to demand taxes from his principality. However, he will not be getting help from me or from Prince Valentin, because we have a reputation to uphold."

He shook his head angrily, and then made a gesture to the two tall servant boys, who followed him briskly out the door.

As Lumiere gazed at the man's face for the last time, he felt a vague, foreboding feeling- almost like an aura- of ill-fate for Prince Maximillien. It was unnerving to him, but honestly, there was nothing he could do. The man's future was not his responsibility, he told himself. Instead, he focused on the relief of not having to give the message to Adam.

When they were gone, Babette turned to Lumiere, her eyes open wide in astonishment. She gasped in joyful excitement, and he sheepishly grinned back.

"_Mon dieu_! Francois, you little weasel! You convinced him to let us keep Master Adam to ourselves! How did you manage- I would be _terrified_ to have to be questioned in such a way!"

Lumiere shrugged. "I don't know... Intuition, I imagine. Darling, let's hail a cab and I will take you on a tour downtown!"

So they did as such. The rest of their day was spent lazily touring downtown Paris and taking in the sights. They found some shops, and Babette couldn't help but want to pick out a new dress for herself; a bright-red silk with short sleeves and a low neckline, perfect for the upcoming warm weather. She wasn't about to purchase frivolities, remembering that Prince Adam was supposedly on limited funds, but the dress was a bargain, she reasoned.

"_Cherie_, I cannot see you cleaning the Great Hall in that."

"I can wear it for going out. Perhaps on trips into the village?"

Lumiere widened his eyes. "I am certain the village men would love the sight of you in that. It would certainly…stand out."

"I could wear it for special dinners, then. Or to Monsieur Maurice's and Mrs. Potts' wedding, perhaps?"

He finally agreed; she purchased the dress. In another shop, they spotted a sweet little porcelain doll, and remembered the young servant girl Mirielle's wish for one. They bought that as well, and a little set of tin soldiers for Chip. They stopped at a candy store and bought bags of colorful sugar sticks and taffy drops for the two children back at the castle. They dined at one of the best restaurants in the center of town, where a string quartet serenaded the customers as they sampled the best pate and soups in the city.

"It is good, but I will always like Chef Thierry's soup the best," Babette opined.

"I concur, _mon cherie_. And this is nothing like his delicious 'grey stuff'!" Lumiere noted, pointing to a dish of sauce.

They spent the next two days mostly secluded upstairs in their room in the inn. Without the presence of the nosy Prince any longer, they felt relaxed and free to enjoy each other. They certainly could agree that the blissful times alone in the room were the best part of their trip. Lumiere did not have any recurrences of his bad dream; he slept peacefully the next few nights, in fact.

They had two more long afternoon visits with his father. Claude-Denis was overjoyed to finally spend some time with his son and daughter in law. As the three sampled wine in Claude-Denis' small sitting room, the two men reminisced and told each other funny stories while Babette listened quietly, enjoying the happy reunion between father and son. Her eye was drawn to one wall, where a painting hung; a small portrait of a ten-year-old boy sitting at a school desk in a formal black uniform. The artist had captured the boy's charming smile perfectly. It was just as she imagined her husband looking like when young, and she secretly hoped any future child of theirs resembled the youngster in the picture.

Finally, on the fifth day, when they were scheduled to meet a stagecoach in the middle of the city to depart for home, they asked the cab-buggy driver to take them to the address of the orphanage. They entered a large, dull brick building, its interior shabby and lackluster with rows upon rows of long tables and chairs. An Abbey nun welcomed them and told them about the needs of the facility. Obviously, the children were lacking in playthings and space to frolic around. Clusters of children sat upon the cool hard floor, segregated in groups of boys and groups of girls. They were all wearing similar outfits; blue and white pinstriped blouses and dark blue breeches for the boys and simple, nightgown-like blue and white pinstriped dresses for the girls.

Lumiere and Babette scanned the clusters of children and finally picked out a familiar face among the group of girls. Minette waved to them, smiling ecstatically. Her hair was neatly combed and pulled back into a braid, and her face was cleanly scrubbed and pink. She stood up and ran to the couple.

"_Monsieur! Madame_! I never thought I would see you again! I just made some new friends- that's Marie-Jeanne, Laure, and Claire over there! They're _really_ nice. We were just making up a game." She waved to Hugo and Damien, who were amongst the youngest group, who had been sitting in a circle, rolling a small ball to each other. They stood and ran to stand next to their sister, smiling at the couple in welcome.

Lumiere pulled a bag out from behind his back. "We have some gifts for you. We need to go home now, and when we do-" he leaned over to whisper in her ear- "we are going to see a real Princess! She is our good friend, and we are going to tell her we met you."

Minette's mouth dropped open in delight. He opened the bag and presented the gifts- he had changed his mind about the recipients of the porcelain doll, toy soldiers and candy. They were originally intended for Mirielle and Chip back at the castle, but he realized that the good-natured servant girl, who was nearly twelve and preferred books over toys, and Mrs. Potts' young boy had plenty of such nice belongings already. He hoped they didn't mind.

The three orphans jumped up and down with delight at the gifts. Damien snatched a candy stick and popped it into his mouth immediately. Babette found herself being pulled by the hand by Minette towards the cluster of little girls sitting in a circle, and being introduced to them. Minette made sure to pass the porcelain doll around to her new friends.

"What is your given name, Madame?" Minette asked shyly.

"Babette."

"Then this doll's name will be Babette," the girl announced. "Even though her hair is gold and yours is dark," She contemplated this as she fingered the doll's flaxen curls. "I am still naming her after you! _Merci!_" She was overjoyed, and Babette felt the happiness radiate to her own heart. _This is what life is all about,_ she thought. Over in a group of small boys, Lumiere was tossing a small ball back and forth to Damien, Hugo and four others.

A little while later, as they set out to leave, Babette asked if there were any books in the orphanage.

"_Non_," replied Sister Marguerite, a grey-haired caretaker. "We only have a few adult Bibles, but no children's books or storybooks of any kind. We would love for people to come and read to the children now and then, they would appreciate that."

Lumiere and Babette looked at each other and grinned. Now _that _was a project that had Belle's name written all over it, they thought. As soon as they got home and told her about this, she would certainly want to come and be a part of it. The Princess was in need of a new adventure, a new project of sorts.

They bid farewell to the orphans and Sister Marguerite, and toured the sights of the city for one more time, gazing up at the fine buildings and watching people from all walks of life go about their day. Finally, they boarded another large stagecoach. This time, the driver was a young, polite man who loaded their baggage gently and reassured them that they would arrive home quickly. He also reassured the passengers that he would tell them when he would stop in the towns along the route.

Hours passed, and the newlyweds snuggled against each other as darkness fell across the countryside. Babette fell asleep on Lumiere's shoulder, and as he gazed down at her, he felt like one of the luckiest men on earth. He was certainly anxious to rejoin his friends at the castle; they were all like his family. And now, married to this incredibly sweet, lovely woman and reunited with his father after such a long time, he felt like he had a family of his own again, as well as a purpose in life.


End file.
